


Wanted

by meirencollector



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Confessions, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Heated Exchange, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Luka Couffaine Loves Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Making Out, Musical References, Neighbors, let's get this lukanette bread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meirencollector/pseuds/meirencollector
Summary: The Couffaines get a new upstairs neighbor. One sibling tries to play it cool, while the other is halfway out the door. Coupled with the simmering summer heat, things become more than just a meet and greet.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66
Collections: September 2020 - Fulfill A Prompt





	Wanted

_A cold shower sounds pretty good right now._

It was all Luka could think of as he sat in the sweltering afternoon haze. Sweat trickling all over, he feels his shirt cling to his back and there’s a slight sting to his eyes - the eyeliner. He never seems to learn to throw it out before it went rancid and it just felt ridiculous to leave the house without it. He’d just have to live with that. And with the heat. 

While a great bargain, the apartment was hell on earth in the summer. They did have AC to keep them sane, but a quick scan of the room would show that it's nowhere to be found. He looks at the corner by the window and sees a clean rectangular patch where it once stood. _Perhaps it was too portable for its own good_ , he shrugs. They’ll just make it work for the time being. Before they burn to ashes, that is. 

He goes back to mindlessly strumming the guitar on the couch. That would get him out of it. Luka may not be able to get down with the weather and proper make-up handling, but he sure could play a tune. _A virtuoso_ , his manager would exaggerate, as another sold-out gig ends or a composition lands a hit on the charts. He could twist his fingers in all sorts of odd shapes to form chords around the board and once or twice, would slide his hand up across the higher frets, the subtle thrums sending chills to one's ear.

Music fills the room with ease, and the melody takes his mind off the heat until he hears a knock on the door.

“Can you get that?” Juleka calls from the bathroom. 

Luka’s fingers come to a halt and he brings himself to open the door.

“Hi, Luka!” she greets with a smile, her blue eyes gleaming at the sight of him.

He couldn’t help but smile back. “Hello, Rose.”

He holds out the door open for her, and Rose dashes straight to the bathroom like she's done for a million times. “Jules, let’s go!” she chides, voice resonating in the bathroom’s tiled walls. “I was supposed to just wait downstairs but here I am, and we’re already late.”

“Give me a minute,” he hears his sister reply. “I just need to pick the right shade..see what fits me best..”

Luka drags his feet to the other side of the room, the kitchen—where the refrigerator stands.

“I think you look beautiful in any shade, but how about this one?”

Luka could hear feet shuffling and objects rustling in the back. He opens the freezer. _Finally, cool air._

“That looks nice, Rose... _mmph-!_ ” 

And in seconds, Juleka Couffaine was out of the bathroom. He doesn’t know how she does it, really, but Rose Lavillant was a goddess in Luka’s eyes, with the divine talent of convincing his little sister to do what she wants, a feat he has never achieved in all his years.

“We’ll just be a few blocks away, there’s a charity event Prince Ali is hosting,” Juleka explains as she slips on her shoes, eyes wary as she sees her brother standing in front of the opened refrigerator door. “Rose actually organised the entire thing, so she asked me to be there to support her. But I’m sure everything’s going to be great.”

The blonde blushes. “It’s nothing, it makes me happy to help others in need.” she tells him. Then she tilts her head, lips forming to a frown, “I asked Juleka if I could invite you as well but-”

“But my brother is busy writing songs!” Juleka quips up, abruptly placing her purse on Rose’s hands.

Luka’s eyes narrow at the weird remark, leaning back on the kitchen counter. _Since when was I busy writing songs?_ Heck, he didn’t even have plans of writing one any time soon.

Luka looks back at his sister, whose one hand was occupied pushing Rose to the door, the other busy holding her phone. She keeps glancing back at it, as if waiting for something to pop up. “Well, we’re going now-”

A faint tap knocks on the door.

Luka straightens up, walking towards the pair. “Were you expecting another one?” he wonders—Rose shakes her head while Juleka seems to avoid his stare—and he swings the door open, "Probably just some lost, random…"

“Oh. Hello, Luka.” the some-lost-random greets, her voice clear and sincere. She casually leans by the doorway, dressed in oversized faded cream tee and loose gym shorts, unkempt hair tied in a high bun. An exceptional sight.

“Marinette.”

For some reason, his throat feels dry. Must be the humidity.

“Marinette! I haven’t seen you in forever.” Rose tackles her for a hug. “I missed you.”

“We saw each other last week, Rose.” The raven-haired girl giggles, hugging her back. “And if you ever miss me, you know you can just come upstairs.”

Luka raises an eyebrow. “Upstairs?”

“Yes!” Rose beams. “Marinette actually lives here now, in 315 with-”

“Would you look at the _time_ ,” Juleka chimes in. “Sorry, Marinette. As much as we want to stay and chit-chat, we have to go." She hurriedly grasps the blonde’s arm. "Rose, come on.” The petite girl still manages to wave goodbye as they scuttle out of sight, hastily running from Luka's piercing gaze. 

"Can I come in?" Marinette asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Of course," he moves to the side. "You're always welcome here."

"Didn't look like it a few seconds ago." she teases, entering the room. "I'm guessing Juleka never told you I was coming."

"No, she never did." he confirms, chuckling.

"Well, I'm here now," she declares, flashing a smile. "So I hope you're fine being stuck with me." 

He muffles out a cough. "Why are you here, exactly?"

Marinette heads for the kitchen. "Needed to drop by to borrow some ingredients." Trying to get back to his senses, Luka goes to pick up his guitar as he hears some scuffling, things rustling against wooden boards. "There is an unsettling lack of bread and cheese in my place. I was sure I stocked up enough, but I must've been wrong."

He looks up, and finds Marinette kneeling on top of the kitchen counter, head buried in the cupboards. Luka shakes his head in amusement.

"Must've been the roommate then."

She lets out a laugh. "You caught that?"

"Would've been deaf if I didn't." He leans back, slinging the guitar over his head. "So when did you move in?"

She sets down a bag of flour. "About a week ago."

"That explains why I haven't seen you earlier before," he hums in response. "I would've dropped by to say hello."

"Well, you're barely here." she mutters. "I've seen Rose more times in this room than yourself."

"Fair enough. I practically live in the studio." Luka glances at her, and sees her trying to pull something out of the storage, face looking a bit strained. "Need a hand over there?" he asks, coming closer, flipping the guitar to his back.

"It’s fine, I’ll manage." she waves him off, now standing, her feet set on the counter's edge. "I just need to get this out— _oof_!"

Luka swoops in just in time, wrapping an arm under her legs while the other bears her back. He looks down at her, grinning. "You were saying?"

A blush sears to her cheeks as he sets her down. "Thanks. I’ll try to be more careful." She brushes herself off, smiling. "But you never know, I could’ve done a backflip and landed on my feet back there if I wanted to."

"As much as I think you’d look cute doing that, I suggest you leave the gymnastic stunts to the pros, like Ladybug."

"Ha. You’re right." she snorts, hoisting herself back up to the cupboard. "Can’t really measure up to her, can I?"

Luka shrugs. "You’re not so bad yourself," he pauses. "I hope he knows that."

Marinette slams down a can on the counter. "What are you trying to say?"

He pulls his guitar back to his chest, slumping to the floor. "Nothing. You just seem pretty cool about it."

She breathes out a sigh. "This is why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd act like this."

He doesn't answer back, his hands slowly plucking the strings with his fingertips, and the other smoothly skims across the frets, its hushed notes creating a sweet, warm melody.

"We're just friends living under the same roof." she murmurs. "It doesn't get any further from there."

Luka plays on, as they both bask in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Sunlight paints Marinette in breathtaking colors; it plays over her tee, alighting gently on her soft skin. She moves off the counter, just enough for the light rays to shine through. It gives her eyes just the right luster as they glint in the light, her lips turning a shade of dark red. But there's something about her that makes him want to see her in the moonlight, to see how her delicate tones glow without the sunset rays. The guitar shifts to a deeper, lower tune, the notes turning into chords as it walks along his cadence, the harmony echoing around the room. He hums to the sound, and it turns into words, a string of sweet nothings as he loses himself into it.

"I never knew you could sing, Luka."

He smiles. _Only for you._

"You have a gift." she presses on, "Maybe you could-" He shakes his head. "I've thought about it once, but it never went to the point of doing something about it. Besides, I'm fine with just singing for you."

"No," she crosses her arms. "I can see the way your eyes sparkle when you sing. The way the words flow out of your mouth. You love it." she states. "You want it."

Luka lets out a chuckle. "You have no idea what I want, Marinette." He looks at her. "And it's quite ironic for you to say that, when you don't even know what you want yourself."

"What do you mean?"

He glances back to his guitar, a hand goes straight to tuners. "You say you don't like him anymore. But you've never moved on to anyone else." He plucks a string once, twice, listening to its tune. "And now, you moved back in. In every sense of the word."

He sees Marinette's hand curl to a fist, and he knows he struck more than a tune.

"It's not like that," she denies. "He just got out of his dad's support. Trying to make it on his own out here." She looks away. "All I do is pay half the rent."

Luka feels a tug in his chest as he hears her words break. _Even after all these years._ He sets down his guitar. "You still have feelings for him."

She scoffs at his words. "You and your heart-tunes. So good at figuring people out when you haven't done so for yourself."

"True," he gets up to his feet, placing his guitar to a corner. "I haven't figured out everything I want," he looks back at her. "But singing for crowds is definitely not one of them."

"Then find what you really want," she snaps, taking a step forward. "Don't go saying 'I'll just live with it' or 'I'll just make it work.' You're always like that, Luka. It's not living when all you've done is cater to the next person, waiting for a change to happen by itself."

"What if I can't have it?" Luka challenges, looking at her straight in the eye.

“You go and pursue it. Seize it. Fight for it.” she presses a finger to his chest. “Let me ask you again, Luka Couffaine, what do _you_ want?”

  
“I want you.”  
  


The words draw a pause, their eyes holding each other’s gaze. Luka’s mind tries to process what he just blurted out of his mouth. 

Marinette takes a step back, muttering “No time for that nonsense,” as she pushes past him and moves away. 

It takes a few beats for his brain for him to catch on, feet pushing to follow the other, and once he does—his hand clasps around Marinette’s wrist to draw her back.

“Marinete, if you would just listen-” he begins, and the words have barely come out before she tugs her wrist out of his grip to push him away; hand slamming against his chest and feet stumbling backwards from the force of it.

Luka darts forward before he realises what he’s doing, knocking the wind out of Marinette’s lungs as the other is slammed against the counter. The raven-haired teen raises her hand in retaliation but he catches it, pinning against a wooden cupboard over their heads. There’s defiance in their stares, loud enough to rival the frustration ringing in his ears; but he finds fear in her eyes too, and it was enough to cause him to stop. 

The mere split-second of hesitation is all it takes for Marinette to meet him halfway, lips already parted as they slot against hers. There's no rhythm, no finesse - all heat and tongues as Luka’s hands work their way beneath her shirt, the palms ghost the planes of her back, tracing the lace of the bra. She hears a fabric rip and gasps, “Shh,” he whispers. Marinette shivers at the sound, arching forward as his fingers graze her chest, whimpers lost against his lips.

He lets his hands travel down to her waist, setting her on the edge of the counter. Luka presses himself closer and Marinette sighs, hips canting all too desperate as he moves to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck. Luka’s eyes were trained on the way Marinette ruts against him, singing encouragements in her ear, drawing soft groans from her mouth.

His hands slip past the waistband of her loose shorts, palms gripping the curve of each cheek. He guides her to move more assertively toward him, and it only takes one, two cants for her to grow still, limbs all taut, lips parted in a dawn-out moan. Luka gapes at her in awe, perhaps transfixed; as Marinette rides her peak—then slumping against him, her head settling on his shoulder. He feels her chest heave as she pants for air, but somehow Luka’s the one finding it harder to breathe.

It takes a few moments for the breathing to even out, and Luka not knowing what to do with his hands, when suddenly they hear the door knob click.

Marinette straightens up with her cheeks scarlet red and eyes wide in shock, slipping out of Luka's grip. She slides off the counter, pushing him one more time and he just lets her, staring as she walks to the door.

"Marinette?" he hears Juleka exclaim. "You're still here?"

“I-um..”

“Were you about to leave?” she asks. “You forgot the ingredients.”

"Right, the ingredients.” he hears her laugh. “Almost forgot. Ha-ha. Hold the door for me, will you?”

He looks at her as she comes back to the kitchen, scrambling to get the packs and cans that had helplessly fallen to the floor. He watches as she tries to take them all in her arms, leaving in haste just before she presses her lips to his cheek.

Luka leans back to the counter, his gaze falling to the front of his jeans, and shaking his head as he thinks of tearing it off—letting out a groan, as his mind runs the scenes earlier on repeat. 

_A cold shower sounds pretty good right now._

**Author's Note:**

> this was based from [leo's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonardo1123581321) prompt in the mlb discord that spiraled into something else


End file.
